Grand Entrance
by Supreme Distraction
Summary: As Bayonetta watched Jeanne zip off on her motorcycle, leaping over taxi cabs and creating general havoc in the city they currently called home, she mused that her fellow Umbra Witch did indeed know how to make an entrance… But then again, so did she. After all, slaughtering masses of Angels tended to get her a little hot under her skin-tight collar.


Ah, the new year approaches. This is a quickie for**Espada Harribel**. Tee hee.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. If I could… Heh. Thanks go to GrimGrave for beta'ing this :3

Grand Entrance _ll _

Jeanne sighed and dropped her cat-eyed goggles onto the counter that divided the kitchen and the dining room, shaking her head bemusedly as the sensor that activated the lights caught the motion and flooded the spacious room with brightness. Chrome appliances gleamed and the polished surface of the immaculate glass shelves refracted the light that streamed in from the curtains that had been parted to reveal a bird's-eye view of the bustling city into rainbows and, at the far end of the living room was a short hallway that split into two paths: one leading to Jeanne's room and the other to Bayonetta's… Though the separation didn't make much sense since—

The silver-haired Witch tensed, whirling around and eying the kitchen warily, her fingers flexing as she gathered her magic into its physical form: a set of pistols called All 4 One. Nothing seemed amiss, despite the niggling sense that there was some other presence in the apartment, and she relaxed a degree before padding over to the double-door refrigerator and helped herself to its contents.

One bottle of designer water (Bayonetta just _loved _expensive things) and some disappointing "healthy" equivalent of a popular junk food later and the woman headed down the narrow hall, shucking her blood red cat suit in her wake. She had been shopping all day for the wretched get-together her roommate had planned and there was nothing quite like a hot bath to help her unwind.

"She owes me,"the Witch muttered, pushing the door open and dropping her clothing into the hamper just outside the bathroom. One of their maids would have picked it up for her, but she wasn't quite as laz—_eccentric _as her dark-haired roommate. "I spoil that woman."

Upon entering the bathroom, however, Jeanne realized that her senses had been correct and she was in fact not alone for there was a scantily clad brunette lounging along the lip of the huge ceramic, lion-foot tub, a grin on her face as she toyed with the bubbles rising from the steaming surface of the water that filled it. The silver-haired beauty paused in the doorway, her eyebrows rising, but the heat slowly coiling its way between her legs erased her incredulity entirely.

"Hello, there~"

Jeanne carefully schooled her features into a more neutral expression and tucked a long strand of silver hair behind her ear, crossing her arms over her prodigious chest and leaning up against the doorway. Though her aura of coolness was firmly in place, she knew from the way the brunette's full lips quirked at the corners that Bayonetta wasn't fooled. "Hey, yourself."

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting a private conversation?" She was smirking—her customary expression—and stormy gray orbs glinted behind the square frames of her glasses. "I can come back later if you'd like…"

She made a show of considering the offer, running her hand almost absentmindedly down her front, along the muscles of her abdomen which stood out faintly beneath pale, silken skin, and chuckling inwardly at the way dark eyes flickered. So easy. "Actually, I was hoping to unwind a bit."

Bayonetta scoffed and flicked water at her roommate, assuming a wounded expression. "Are you suggesting that I'd interrupt that?"

"You _are _a pain in my ass, my dear."

"Is that so, _luv_?"

"It is, _darling_."

She knew that expression—knew that combat made her roommate frisky and, if the swiftly healing bruises on her midsection were anything to go by, this scrap had been a doozy. Still, that didn't mean she was going to allow herself to be toyed with without putting up a fight.

"In that case…" The dark-haired Umbra Witch stood, the slow, sensual movement making the heat from before burn even hotter. "I'll leave you to it."

And then, Jeanne was left (suspiciously) alone. She scoffed, shaking her head, and went over to the tub, testing the waters' temperature with a hand before slipping into the porcelain basin and sinking down until the warm, soapy liquid reached her chin.

"_Mm…_"

She supposed she should have been more concerned with her roommate's complacency, but the way her muscles were going lax, the tension within them eased by the temperature of the bath, made the niggling concern seem very, very far away. Instead, the silver-haired Witch grabbed her loofa and the bar of exotic, hand-made soap Bayonetta had had flown in from Fiji, and began to wash herself, humming under her breath as she did so.

A minute passed and then another. A third minute passed and the Witch blinked drowsily, her eyelids drooping. It was about time to get out, wasn't it? She'd get all pruney if she stayed here any longer... Besides, the water was getting cold. As the woman fished around at the bottom of the tub, searching for the stopped that prevented the water from leaking down the drain, it occurred to her that it was quiet.

Too quiet.

It wasn't as though her roommate was particularly loud or obtrusive, but Bayonetta _did_ have a tendency to attract attention—whether it was from angels hell-bent on erasing her from existence or strange male callers that lusted after her sensual curves and coquettish behavior. She also tended to strut about the place as though she owned it (and she did) in those ridiculously (sexy) high heels of hers and that familiar sound was absent as well. It was as though the apartment was empty… Or the brunette was plotting something.

…

Bayonetta reentered the bathroom with a literal '_bang_,' and the room—no, the entire _building_ shook as dust swirled about, obscuring the silver-haired woman's vision. She caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure moving through the cloud of particles and she whirled, catching the foot that came sweeping towards her and using the other woman's momentum to send her flying.

"Nice try."

"You're no fun."

Jeanne scoffed and ducked, evading yet another kick, only to find herself pressed up against the younger Witch's nubile form.

She could think of a few ways she could be more… _fun._

"Some of Paradiso's grand little messengers paid me a visit today," a throaty voice purred into her ear, the English accent dripping from it like auditory sex. Jeanne stifled a whimper, pressing back into the warm, silken form… Only to find that Bayonetta was already gone.

… _Damn._

"Mm… What did they have to say?"

"Oh, I have no idea." Her tone was curt, business-like. "I was too busy teaching them their place."

If the brunette kept talking, she could locate the woman and teach her _her_ place. "How so?"

"Well, I gave them a stern talking-to." Was she circling the older Witch? Her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "And when that didn't work, I gave them a spanking."

The flat of Bayonetta's palm connected with the full curve of Jeanne's bottom and she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her at the pleasant sting that sent an electric arc of pleasure zipping along her spine. Before she could even think to reach out and grab the impudent woman's wrist, the brunette had slinked away again, a warm, sexy laugh echoing through the tiled room.

By now, the dust was clearing and that was the only reason Jeanne managed to catch sight of the glint of her opponent's glasses just before the woman came sailing out of the obscuring cloud foot first, a powerful roundhouse catching the silver-haired beauty in the stomach and sending her smashing into the huge, ornate mirror hanging over the fancy glass bowl that served as their sink. As she slid down into a sitting position, glass raining down on either side of her with a delicate-sounding chime, Jeanne wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, her heart beginning an eager cadence as she sized up her roommate who approached with a new, victorious swagger in her already haughty strut.

If Bayonetta wanted a fight, the spoiled young Witch would get one.

Jeanne's eyes flashed red as she balled her hand into a fist and feinted, the powers lent to her by her demoness partner, Madama Styx, manifesting in the form of a huge fist that uprooted the bathtub, spilling tepid water all over the floor, in its path to strike the other Witch, who loosed a bark of laughter and countered with her own giant fists—both of which crossed in front of her to block the blow.

"I think it's time you got _your_ spanking."

"You'll have to catch me first, my dear."

_Very well._ She broke into a run, completely mindless of how slippery the tiled surface was, and cartwheeled past a flurry of punches, leaping high up in the air and pulling All 4 One from the incorporeal realm that existed through worlds, their barrels heating to super-nova levels as she rained hell down on the brunette beauty.

Bayonetta whipped her katana, Shuraba, out of nowhere and deflected the shots without batting a single, long eyelash, releasing a bored yawn as she spun the weapon about with one hand. Once the bullets had been swept aside, she threw the long blade, managing to nick the other woman's cheek before Jeanne could move completely out of the way; it embedded itself in the far wall, the force with which it had been thrown sending a long, thin crack spidering through the tiles and sending several _clink_ing to the wet floor.

… It was amazing how the contractors that they were constantly employing didn't ask the obvious: how in the name of all that was holy did these two young, beautiful women manage to wreck their fabulous penthouse apartment on a weekly basis? She supposed they were just glad for the steady work. Besides, with the state of the world right now, caught up in the battle between the Inferno and Paradiso, the inexplicable damages to the Witches' living quarters were probably the least of their concerns.

Jeanne was pulled from her thoughts by the return-fire that sung through the air and she somersaulted out of the way, her frame humming with power. The Umbra Witch twisted mid-leap, pale skin growing hot as she called on the powers of Madama Styx, and in the next moment, her nudity was covered in a fibrous, red, hair-like material that resembled her cat suit. Her body warped, becoming slender and feline and, when she landed, the Umbra Witch had assumed the sleek, stocky form of a lynx.

She snarled, a feral utterance that had her impromptu opponent grinning wickedly. "Here, kitty, kitty."

The older Witch leaped, claws out, and Bayonetta ducked, pushing up into a handstand and knocking the big cat away from her with a powerful kick. She wind-milled, still balanced on her palms, and the black, hair-like fibers of her own demoness, Madama Butterfly, covered pale, voluptuous curves, allowing her to assume her own feline form: a dark-furred panther with a long, lean body crouched on the marble tiles, hackles raised.

And, in that moment, neither Witch remembered _how _this little squabble had begun—only that either absolutely refused to be dominated by the other.

Unstoppable force met immovable object.

Both big cats yowled, twisting and turning in a knot of sleek muscle and silky fur. Furniture crashed to the ground, the racket miraculously failing to gain the attention of their downstairs neighbors, and expensive, useless trinkets met their demise at the paws of literal cat fight and, eventually, the smaller of the two managed to get the upper hand. She bit down on her opponent's neck, forcing the panther into a crouch as she blanketed over the younger woman, her soft underbelly pressed against a broad back and shoulders.

The growl that left the lynx's throat was threatening, but her opponent gave a snarl of her own, twisting beneath the stockier form.

_Submit_. Jeanne tossed her head, the muscles in her legs tensing as she maintained her dominant position.

_Never. _Bayonetta struggled to no avail, her snarls dying down to a frustrated rumbling low in her throat.

For a moment time stood still and the silent clash of wills continued between both stubborn immortals. Then, the Witches returned to their humanoid forms in perfect sync, the silver-haired beauty still lording over the brunette, and eyes the same colour and coolness of steel glinted victoriously as Jeanne pinned her partner down by her wrists, her naked body pressed into the taller, curvier form of the short-haired woman.

"Are you quite finished, _Cereza_? You know you can't beat me."

Bayonetta's nostrils flared and she lunged, not quite managing to free herself though her face came mere centimeters from smashing into the older woman's. She froze in place, straining against the strong hands that held her, and Jeanne licked her lips, a pleased shudder rolling along her spine.

She had the brunette right where she wanted her.

… But that didn't mean she couldn't still taunt the spoiled young witch.

"I've thwarted you time and time again," the woman was saying, a perfectly arched eyebrow cocked challengingly. "Before your good sense caught up to you and you stopped behaving like a madwoman." Under her breath, she added, "And grew out that _ghastly_ buzz cut."

Her eye twitched, she swore it. "Pardon?"

"You heard me." She was smirking again. "If you hadn't done it, I honestly wouldn't have made nice with you after all that squabbling."

Jeanne was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she shifted, sliding her thigh between the brunette's and up against the slick heat waiting there—slick heat that she had created. A pleased thrill zipped along her spine at the way the usually cool Witch's stormy gray orbs became unfocused. "You only "beat" me because I allowed it. I didn't want to crush the princess's hopes… You tend to be so fragile."

"Oh shut up and fuck me," Bayonetta snapped, rolling her eyes even as her cheeks flushed and her nostrils flared. It seemed she had struck a nerve… The brunette did tend to be a little… _self-conscious _when her frenemy-turned-lover was around—and she absolutely hated it.

A chuckle. "Your wish is my command, my dear."

(break)

Bayonetta moaned, the sound filling the room in a carnal husk for a brief moment before Jeanne claimed her lips, swallowing her lover's approval as she plumbed the velvety depths of the brunette's sex with long, talented fingers. The silver-haired woman hummed appreciatively as well-manicured nails raked down her back, leaving thin trails of pain-pleasure in their wake before she felt the warmth of the magic running through her veins seal them shut.

She kissed her way down a full, luscious frame, nuzzling against the pale swells of large, creamy breasts and taking time to nip and lick dusky nipples, her fingers still pumping. Bayonetta's breasts… Well, they were _perfect _and Jeanne raised her free hand to roll a pebbled peak between her fingers, taking its neglected twin into her mouth and sucking, relishing in the slightly salty taste of the writhing Witch's flesh.

It was a damned shame that they healed too quickly for hickeys to remain for more than a few seconds…

Shrugging off that niggling disappointment, the silver-haired beauty tore herself away from her prizes and kissed her way down, lavishing a trail of heat across the quivering muscles of Bayonetta's abdomen. The brunette shuddered, her thighs splayed, and bucked to meet each thrust, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"So good…" she purred, biting her lower lip to cease the embarrassing flood of pleased sounds that threatened to leave her. Her body was on fire, the heat of the flames burning hotter with each deep, powerful thrust of Jeanne's fingers, threatening to reduce her senses to ash with their overwhelming pleasure.

The silver-haired Witch made a soft, happy sound low in her throat and resumed her path along the brunettes voluptuous form, her inner muscles clenching as she neared her destination: the slick, warm cunt that was so sweetly swallowing her fingers. Long digits tangled in her hair, tugging, and she paused, looking up at her lover with a questioning look.

"Wait…" Bayonetta's eyes were unfocused, her bosom rising and falling with each ragged breath. "Jeanne… I… _Oh blast. _Just… Wait."

For a rare instant, the brunette's lovely, striking features were open, _vulnerable_, and the older Witch's heart skipped a beat, swelling beneath her breast with affection for the other immortal. Bayonetta disliked feelings and expressing them—anything to do with the wretched things, really. She preferred actions over words, as eloquent as she was.

Jeanne pressed a trail of gentle kisses to the inside of pale thighs, worshipping soft, sweet flesh, and murmured, "I know."

And she did. She knew the Witch adored her and she felt the same way one hundred fold.

The first kiss against sensitive flesh made Bayonetta arch sharply, her muscles going taut. Long fingers curled, hitting the spongy tissue near the top of her sex and her world flew apart in an explosion of bliss and heat.

_Oh God…!_

Jeanne rocked her world, tearing apart everything she knew and rearranging it in new and frightening ways—and she absolutely hated it.

Bayonetta screamed, the force of her orgasm crashing over her like waves against the craggy surface of a cliff. And Jeanne's fingers didn't pause in their tempo, easing her down from her high even as a warm, wet tongue wreaked havoc over her clitoris.

When at last the silver-haired woman pulled her fingers from velvet depths, stormy orbs blinked open, flicking muzzily to her partner who was cleaning the evidence of her arousal from slender digits. She grinned, wrapping her arms around the brunette and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "How are you feeling, love?"

She felt… Warm. Safe. Wanted—and not just sexually. The older Witch made her feel like the only woman in the world… A confusing concept given that they were _both _women.

"That was fantastic."

The arms around her tightened their grasp and Jeanne nuzzled the hollow of her throat. "Mm… I do love making you scream."

She swatted the other woman on the backside, scoffing when the silver-haired Witch gave her a smoldering look. Damn her body for reacting so predictably to the invitation in steel-coloured eyes.

"You're an ass."

And… if she was being completely honest, she absolutely _loved _it.

**-End-**


End file.
